


a thread on the loom

by lostinthefire



Series: This Is Me Not Praying [3]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Age Play, Bonding, Canon Divergence - Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Families of Choice, Fluff, Gen, Learning to trust, Natasha makes her own safe spaces, Non-Sexual Age Play, Team as Family, opening up to others
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-01
Updated: 2016-10-16
Packaged: 2018-04-18 11:35:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4704626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lostinthefire/pseuds/lostinthefire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After some time passes and things go into upheaval, Natasha decides it's time to be honest.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is getting put up because I refuse to let a year hit since I've updated this series. I do love it and I want to get to the point where I can write happy team & co times.

Time moves forward and Natasha watches the world turn and change before her. The passage of time feels inconsequential and yet she knows each second as it flows by. Time is strange, time is fluid, time is something she can know intimately and yet have little understanding of.

The point is, time moves by her and she's lost in the world for a while. She's pulled into Steve's search for the Winter Soldier, she watches SHIELD fall and she finds herself without a purpose, without any idea of where she's going or who she might be.

Her existence gets all shook up and she finds herself more often than not, sitting alone, trying to define who she is. What she believes in.

The little fox comes with her the entire time she's on the move after she departs from Steve and company. She's alone, so it hardly matters. She meets up with Clint occasionally, checks in and makes sure he's holding up but she tells him she needs the time to herself.

But very sharply, as if a switch had been flipped, she finds that she's done with distancing herself, with being alone. She remembers the point she was at, what seems like ages ago, and she finds herself reaching for that, for the person she had been becoming before everything went to hell.

But it's not that simple, is it? She can't just switch back to how everything had been. She had different circumstances surrounding her, safety and comfort and the knowledge that she could be anonymous. 

Well, she's lost that, at least for a while.

But she still has the people she's come to consider those she can trust and she wonders if she can be brave, if she can take hold of her fears and toss them aside, make something better out of them instead of letting them wrap around her throat and keep her quiet.

And it's with those very same fears in her throat that she sets off to find Clint, all nerves and uncertainty hidden beneath her usual confident smile. She approaches with ease, with a laziness that says there's nothing to hide, though Clint will know better.

He smiles at her, wraps her up in a hug and she laughs, kissing his cheek. Even though she's jittery, even though she knows this could be potentially awkward as hell and ruin something good, she's determined to try and say something to him.

They get a hotel room for the next few days, then settle at the bar. They drink for a while, catching up on everything that's been going on. Clint has been laying low, as has she and the interesting stories are fewer than normal.

Finally, Natasha suggests they go upstairs, finishing off her drink and offering him a smile that's tired and showing the edge of nervousness.

She's not sure she can do it, not sure she can make the words pass through her lips, or how she's going to construct the sentences, but she's going to try.

There had been scripts in her head, ideas of how to go about explaining herself but, the thing is, it's hard to keep all that in mind when the actual plan is in progress. Everything feels like its flying past her and she has no control over the situation, even though nothing has even begun.

They head upstairs and she can feel herself shift from foot to foot, and the desire to just reach for Clint's hand and hold on tight is hitting her hard. She knows that if she says it, he'll probably shrug, take it in stride and just move on, but she can't help but wish it was done so she could just move on and maybe get him to tell her its okay.

Because having a stranger say it's fine is one thing but people you've come to accept as friends say it is another entirely.

They get inside and Natasha goes to her bag while Clint kicks his shoes off. She hears him flop onto the bed before she's turning around, her fox in her hands.

"What's that," Clint asks, looking at with a somewhat confused expression. 

"His name is Reynard," she says quietly. Her eyes don't meet his, instead focusing on the fox and the way her hand move across it's fur. "I--He's mine." She almost says 'my friend' but she stops herself, feeling like that might be overkill somehow.

"He's cute," Clint says, voice a little uncertain. "You okay, Nat?"

She sucks in a breath, then steps closer to the bed, sitting on the edge. "What if...If I told you he was my friend. That he helped me...Helped me feel comfortable."

Clint shrugs. "I'd say everyone's got their comforts. It's not that weird."

She feels like they're reading the same book, just not the same page. She can tell he knows something's there, something she's trying to say and he is willing to listen as she stumbles through an attempt to get it out, it's just a matter of doing that.

"It's...Different," she starts. "It's like, I have him and I feel safe. I can...I don't have to think of what people see me as. I can be different, I can...be smaller."

"Smaller?"

"Like--like a little girl again? Not the kind of girl I was, not the kind that grew up the way I did. The kind of girl who got to feel safe."

Clint blinks, brows knitting together for a moment as he processes what she's saying. "Okay," he says slowly. "I follow. It's like a regression thing but not quite, since it's not exactly _your_ childhood you're going back to."

"I don't know," she mumbles, looking down at her feet. "It's...I don't know what it is exactly. It's just part of who I am. There's a part of me that's this, and I wanted you to know. I wanted--...I wanted to be honest with you."

He lays there for moment, seemingly thinking the whole thing over before finally siting up, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her down to lay next to him. "You know what," he says. "If this is you being honest, I'll take it. I can't promise to say I totally understand it or anything, but whatever. It's you, that's what matters. I"ll take you however you want."

She laughs, letting herself settle in against his chest, in the right place so she can hear his heart beat. "Yeah," she asks. "However I want?"

"Well, if you're pissed at me, that's one thing. I'm hauling ass at that point but if you wanna be a little kid every now and then, I can deal with that. I can be like...I don't know, an awesome older brother or something. It'll be great."

"I'm holding you to the awesome part," she says, feeling the tension drain from her body. "You're going to have to be absolutely fantastic."

"I already am," he tells her, winking while offering her a grin. His hands are moving down her sides and while she's aware of it, she's still giggling like mad when he starts to tickle her. 

Even as she's squirming and trying to get away, she feels like she would rather not be anywhere else but here.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Basically, I am the worst and I'm so sorry. I promise I am going to finish this series if it kills me, I just may take absolutely forever and a day to do so.

Here's the thing, telling Clint was easy compared to the idea of telling anyone else. Natasha knew Clint wouldn't care, she knew he would wrap her up in a hug and take care of her when she needed it.

But everyone else? That's a different story.

She doesn't know who to approach, or even who she thinks will take it the worst. She just knows she wants to share with the rest of them. They're her friends, her teammates. They're people she has come to associate with trust and community and that is enough to crack the part of her that said she should keep this to herself.

For some reason, it's Sam who she goes to next.

Natasha isn't sure it's the best idea, Sam had the skillset to tear her down and judge every action she made but, the thing is, she knows he won't. She believes that he will understand what she's doing and why she does it.

Somewhere along the journey that she's started, she's developed the ability to have a little faith in people. Sam brought that out in her and she felt like maybe, just maybe, it was worth broaching this subject with him.

She goes to him when he's alone. Steve was busy, distracted with Barnes now that he was in their custody. Sam was usually trying to help them out, give what he could and, when he could not help one of hem, doing his best to help the other.

But he made time for her, promising they could go to his house for a night.

And now Natasha is outside his door, not quite sure she's ready to go in yet. She knows he's aware of her presence but she can't quite make herself move to open the door. She's doubting herself, wondering if this was a horrible mistake. Maybe she doesn't even need to tell Sam. Maybe he won't give a damn or, even worse, maybe he'll break down all the reasons this isn't good.

She takes a breath. She can do this. She can absolutely do this.

She knocks on the door.

Sam opens immediately, smiling at her. "Hey," he greets, stepping aside to let her in. "I was wondering when you'd get here."

Which is a casual way of saying he's happy she didn't walk away. She's not sure she shares the same feeling but that will mostly depend on how tonight goes.

They talk for a while, catching up on how things are going and how the people they know are getting by. They dance around the topic of Bucky Barnes, Sam refusing to say more than he feels he can and Natasha not entirely sure whether she wants to know anything about it or not.

What finally brings the conversation to the reason she's there is actually in the kitchen. They move from the living room to the kitchen table and Sam sets out a plate of cookies.

He says, "You look like you could use one." 

She bites back a small laugh and picks up a cookie, chewing carefully before proceeding with the topic she wanted to bring up.

"Do you think," she starts. "That it's wrong to want things you weren't allowed to have? Not like the dangerous things but... Things like safety or comfort. Do you think it's all right to seek them out when you're in a place where they might be available?"

He nods, picking up a cookie. "Yeah, sure. If you can attain those things, you should go after them. People deserve to feel safe."

"Even if the way they go about feeling safe is unconventional?"

"Mmhm. Sometimes you need to do things a little differently to make it work for you. There's nothing wrong with that. If you find comfort in one thing when other people find it in something else, it doesn't matter."

She considers that for a moment, then closes her eyes.

"I like stories," she says softly. "I like picture books and animated movies and I... I don't know."

"There's nothing wrong with that, you know?" He studies her for a long moment. "No matter why you like it, if it's what makes you feel better, then you deserve to keep having those things in your life."

"Even if I'm pretending a lot of the time? Even if I close my eyes and play a game where nothing that happened to me happened and I... I"m a different person. Smaller and more gentle and able to not be me? At least not exactly."

"Are you asking me if this is okay or if I care?"

She shrugs. "I'm honestly not sure."

"Well, I don't care and yes, it is okay. You're not doing anything bad, Natasha. You're doing what you need to cope and if you're coming to me with this, you're probably learning to trust at least a little bit too. I'm sure as hell you wouldn't have come to me if you thought I couldn't be trusted with this."

"I went to Clint first."

"That's okay. You had to start somewhere and he's the safest thing you've got. At least that's what it seems like when you talk about him."

"He is."

"How did he take it?"

"He... he said he would be my older brother if I wanted."

"Is that what you want?"

She looked at the plate between then and reached out for another cookie, though she didn't take a bite. "I-- I like the idea of a family. I didn't get that when I was younger, I never thought I would get it at all but he makes me think I could."

"Do you think you'll tell anyone else?" 

"Maybe? I don't know. I feel like I want to but I know someone is going to take it the wrong way or something. It's not going to be okay."

Sam watched her for a moment, then asked. "Do you believe that or do you think it?"

Natasha tore a piece off of the cookie and popped it into her mouth. "I want to believe that everything is going to work out and be okay. I just... there's doubt. There's always a little sliver of doubt and it keeps growing, even as I tell people and they take it well."

"You know that's okay too, right? Having that doubt is completely understandable. The thing is, you can't let it overwhelm you. If you want to keep opening up to us, that's good. And if someone had a bad reaction to something you say, that's allowed too. We'll work it out. It's a part of being on a team."

She isn't sure what to say, her hands breaking apart the cookie on her plate. It's a nice sentiment but she has no idea if she believes it or not. She really likes the idea though, of being able to believe in the people around her and that if it doesn't go well, they'll sort it out together.

But there's a part of her that still says that such a thing sounds impossible.

"I don't know what to do now," she admits softly. "I don't know if I keep telling people or if I just keep it between us or what." She sighs. "I want to tell everyone, I want... I want that feeling of knowing there are people who know this part me but I don't know if I can keep doing this talk over and over again.

Sam nods, seeming to understand her weariness. "Makes sense but it might get easier with time and with people who already know. Bring Clint with you when you talk to Bruce and Tony and see how that goes. I can be there when you talk to Steve. You don't have to do it alone if you don't want to."

It takes a moment to process that, to realize that she has people who know now and that she can lean on them for support as she opens up to everyone else. It feels odd but in a good way. Realizing she has people to trust with this part of herself is still new but every time she realizes she has them, it's a delightful surprise.

"What happens now," she asks softly. She got out the words but she finds herself unsure of where to go from there, if she should say anything else or do something, or what.

"Now," Sam says, getting up and getting out the milk and two glasses. "I think we sit here, eat cookies and you tell me what movies you've seen and we'll make a list of other things that you _have_ to see next."

Natasha almost misses the fact that she's smiling, distracted with the relaxation running through her body and the taste of chocolate on her tongue.

**Author's Note:**

> So, I don't know if I've mentioned this but the title for the series and a few other titles within (including the title of this story) are from Talis Kimberley.
> 
> Find me elsewhere:  
> [My DW](http://rootsofthestories.dreamwidth.org) (which I use regularly)  
> [My Tumblr](http://analtarofstars.tumblr.com/) (which I am very rarely on)  
> [My Twitter](http://twitter.com/harvestgraces) (which I am on at random)


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